


Lend a Hand

by Spoodlemonkey



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bro's helping out bro's, Current Season, Feelings, First Time, Fluff, Hand Jobs, It's his own fault though, Justin probably scarred himself in this fic, M/M, Smut, because why not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 05:56:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18359990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoodlemonkey/pseuds/Spoodlemonkey
Summary: “You’re not dying.” He can practically hear Justin rolling his eyes over the phone.“I might be.” Travis insists. “I’m bored and so horny I can’t see straight.”





	Lend a Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own! Don't know, don't own.  
> Set in the current season when Travis was out with his upper body injury.

Travis spends the first few days of mandatory downtime doped up on painkillers and sleeping. Turns out not only is making it to the show _exhausting_ but so is being injured.

When they take him off the good stuff and replace it with something that _just_ manages to dull the pain from _ow fuck never breathing again_ to _ow don’t move quickly_ , it also gets that much more difficult to sleep. Shoulder injuries are a _bitch_ to recover from. It takes him a few days to find a position that doesn’t make his shoulder ache, and that’s a few more sleepless nights than he wants.

He’s pretty sure the sleepless nights are the worst so when he finally manages to get comfortable, get into a system and get some sleep, it comes as a surprise that there’s something _so much worse._

_“I swear, Dermott, if you’re not calling for an emergency I will kill you.”_

“Don’t hang up!”

Justin sighs heavily over the phone but doesn’t hang up on him. This time.

_“What do you want? Unlike you, I’ve actually got shit to get done.”_

“I’m so fucking bored, man.” Travis whines. He’s sprawled out on his bed, shoulder immobilized and phone on speaker resting on his stomach. “And none of the guys will answer their phone.”

_“That’s ‘cause you keep calling them to complain.”_

“I thought we were _bro’s_.” He accuses.

Justin just laughs.

_“Yeah, so if you need help hooking up or getting out of something, I’m there for you man. But I’m not dropping my plans to come and babysit you.”_

“You’re literally the worst.”

_“I’m okay with that.”_ Justin informs him cheerfully. _“What about Johnsson? You two are usually disgustingly co dependent.”_ _  
_ “He’s out with his new lineys.” A thread of bitterness creeps into his voice. It’s not that he’s not pumped that Andreas is out there playing on the second line with two stars they _idolize_ \- because he _is_ \-  it’s just that it also translates off the ice. Andreas has been out with them more and more lately. Travis hoards his Andreas-time greedily, he’s not about to give it up. So yeah, Travis is jealous of all the time Andreas is spending with Matthews and Nylander while he’s stuck at home, slowly wasting away.

_“You’re not dying.”_ He can practically _hear_ Justin rolling his eyes.

“I might be.” He insists. “I’m bored and so horny I can’t see straight.”

_“Could you_ ever _see straight?”_

“I’m flipping you off right now, just so you know.”

_“Go jerk off then and leave me alone.”_

“I can’t.” Travis whines. All this talk of jerking off is actually getting to him, despite it being Justin- which is just _not a chance in hell_ \- so he half wiggles, half rolls his way off the bed. It had taken him four days to figure out it was the least painful way to get up. He just looks like an idiot. “It’s my bad shoulder.”

_“Oh shit, sorry bud.”_ Justin at least _sounds_ sympathetic to Travis’ dilema. It makes him feel a little better, feeds his desire to wallow in self pity until he can get back on the ice. _“But seriously, I’ve got a ton of shit I need to get done and you’re not helping.”_

“You’re a _terrible_ friend.” He collapses onto the couch- carefully- before realizing the remote he needs is over by the armchair where he’d left it last night. Fuck. “Shouldn’t you be helping me in my time of need?”

_“I’m not helping you with your boner, man.”_ Travis makes a face at that because- _ew_ no. _“There, I texted Johnsson and told him about your problems. Go bug him.”_

“I hate you.”

_“Love you too.”_ Justin hangs up on him before he can start complaining again and Travis is left alone in his apartment, in the same predicament as before, except now he’s _really_ horny.

Time to look at cat videos on youtube.

 

::

 

An hour later he’s moved on from cat videos to Doctor Pimple Popper and is drifting on the couch when someone starts banging on his door. Okay- so it’s more of a polite _knock_ , but considering that he now has to get his ass off the couch when he was planning on spending the afternoon in that one spot, it comes across as more demanding than it should.

He’s kind of hoping it’s Justin so he can yell at him about hanging up on him and then monopolize his time so he’s not so _fucking bored_.

“Hey,” Andreas steps past him into the apartment looking _all kinds_ of amazing in a tight t-shirt and tighter jeans. Travis gets a whiff of whatever cologne he has on and nearly _swoons_ he smells so good. Fuck it’s been too long since he got to come, clearly. “Holl messaged me? Said you had a problem.”

“I _do_ , man.” Travis shuts the door and follows him to the living room. “You’re a _lifesaver_. You want a water or anything?”

Andreas looks thoughtfully around the room and Travis gets to openly oggle the way his shoulders fill out the plain white t-shirt sinfully.

“Sure.” His gaze lands on Travis’ sling. “Actually, you sit, I’ll get it.”

“Sweet, thanks.” Travis gets settled back on the couch, sling carefully propped up on a pillow. His afternoon is looking a hell of a lot better if he gets his Mango-time after all.

It doesn’t take long for Andreas to come back with two gatorades, handing one to Travis and unscrewing the other, taking a long swig. He doesn’t immediately sit on the couch, instead recapping his drink and placing it on the coffee table.

“So, how do you want to do this?” He eventually asks and Travis pats the space next to him. Andreas hums, and shakes his head. “No, that won’t be too comfortable. Better like this.”

And then he sinks to his knees.

Travis brain stutters to a halt.

Andreas doesn’t seem to notice his silence, crawling between his thighs, spreading them further apart with his broad shoulders and _fuck_ , Travis has to bite the inside of his cheek to make sure this isn’t a dream.

“What are you doing?” He manages to get together enough brain cells to ask.

Andreas glances up at him with a hesitant little smile, big hands coming to rest on Travis’ thighs over his sweats.

“Justin said you had a problem, I can help.” He says like it’s _that_ easy.

“So you, um,” Travis stutters and Andreas slides his hands further up. His cock’s chubbing up in his sweats from having hands near it for the first time in _forever_ and because it’s _Andreas_ of all people. “Sorry, you’re doing what?”

“I’m sucking your cock.” Andreas’s grin is beautiful and _wicked_ and Travis has to squeeze his eyes shut, overwhelmed.

“Um,” Travis’ voice actually _cracks_ like it hasn’t since he was sixteen and trying to ask out the boy in his biology class. His cheeks are flaming. “I don’t think this is _exactly_ what Justin meant.”

Andreas arches an eyebrow at him and removes his hands. Travis immediately misses the warmth and pressure but bites his lip to stop from demanding the touch back. Andreas pulls his phone from his back pocket, types in his code and then turns the phone around for Travis to see. It’s a text from Justin and all it says is, ‘ _your boy is whiny and horny. Do something about it.’_

“Okay,” he still doesn’t think _this_ is what Justin meant but honestly who the hell knows anymore. “But that doesn’t mean you _have_ to.”

That gets Andreas to pause, tossing his phone on the couch, plush lower lip caught between his teeth as he gnaws on it.

“Do you not want to?” And he looks so _disappointed_.

“No! No, I mean- yes? But like, only if you want to?” He’s just making a mess of things, he swears.

“I do.” Andreas says firmly and Travis lets out a shuddery breath. “I’ve wanted this for a _long_ time.”

And that. Well, that’s a lot.

“Me too.” He admits, heart racing. It gets him a sweet, pleased smile in return and he laughs, reaching out. “This is dumb. Get up here.”

Andreas eagerly climbs up onto the couch, settling himself carefully in Travis’ lap, mindful of his shoulder. Travis’ heart does something complicated in his chest as Andreas presses a soft kiss to his shoulder. They grin helplessly at each other, and then they’re kissing.

So, Travis can safely say he’s imagined kissing Andreas more than once. It’s a bit of a nightly activity for him- if you catch his drift. How can _anyone_ not daydream about his lips? The real thing is so _much more_ than he could have ever imagined.

Andreas’ lips are soft against his and they part so sweetly for him. He licks his way into Andreas’ mouth, invites him to do the same and is promptly devoured when he returns the favor. Andreas kicks everything up a notch, hands coming up to frame Travis’ face and move him where he wants him alternating with teasing little licks and sucking on his tongue in a way that Travis is sure is going to make him come in his pants.

They’re both panting by the time they seperate. Travis forgets himself, reaching out again, wanting to get his hands on all that warm skin. He hisses as he jostles his shoulder.

“Stay still.” Andreas chides. His accent is thicker and it sends a bolt of heat through Travis. “You’ll hurt yourself more.”

“I’m fine.” Travis argues but Andreas is shaking his head, already sliding out of his lap. Travis tries not to groan in disappointment, his cock hard and aching and apparently not getting any relief.

But Andreas just slides back down to the floor, resuming his previous position. His gaze lands on the way Travis’ cock is tenting his sweats obscenely, and he smirks, wicked and impish.

“For me?”

“Fuck _yes_.” Travis barely dares to breath as Andreas leans in and rubs his cheek over the bulge. He grips the couch cushions hard, his nails digging into the palm of his bad arm at the sensation. “God of course you’re a tease.”

Andreas laughs and wraps one of his giant hands around the bulge, just holding the weight.

“More fun.” He winks and lets go, instead easing the waistband of his sweats down, letting his cock bob free. He gets Travis’ sweats off, leaving him in nothing but his t-shirt, his cock leaving a wet smear against the fabric.

It’s been too fucking long.

“Don’t worry, I won’t not torture you.” Andreas promises, smooths his hands up and down Travis’ legs in what should be a soothing manner but just sends shivers up and down his spine. He pushes further between Travis’ legs and seals his lips over the head of Travis’ cock.

Travis shoves his fist in his mouth at the first, wet drag of his tongue along the sweet bundle of nerves. Andreas takes more of his cock into his mouth, full pink lips stretched obscenely and Travis is torn between muffling his shouts or tracing his fingers around where his cock is sliding in and out.

He’s sweating, muscles tense as he tries not to thrust, remembering at least how much he hates it when guys did it without asking. Andreas just takes him deeper and deeper, covering what he can’t reach with his fist. He looks up at Travis from under thick lashes and that’s it. That’s all she wrote.

He doesn’t even get to warn Andreas. He’s too busy coming to be embarrassed about how quick a trigger he has, back bowing, shoulder twinging at the intensity of it.

Andreas chokes a little, pulls off and gets a long rope of come along his cheek, but he keeps stroking Travis through it until he’s spent, boneless.

“Sorry.” Travis tries to pat at Andreas’ shoulder but his coordination is _shit_ and mostly he strokes his fingers down the front of his shirt.

“It’s fine.” Andreas wipes the come off on Travis’ sweats, voice wrecked but looking pleased and if he could, he’d be ready to go again. Andreas’ lips are red and swollen, and he missed a bit of come on his jaw. The image is going to be burned into Travis’ head _forever_. Five minutes. He can probably be ready to go again in five minutes.

Andreas pushes to his feet and Travis instinctively reaches out to keep him from leaving, but he just settles on the couch again, curling into Travis’ side and leaning in to press short, hungry kisses to his lips. He takes Travis’ good hand in his, moving it to feel where he’s hard and straining against his jeans.

Yeah okay, Travis can _totally_ get on board for that.

He fumbles for the zipper but with one hand it’s an issue. Andreas doesn’t let him struggle for long, helps him with the button and zipper, tugging his jeans down just far enough, his cock jutting out, long and an angry red. Travis’ mouth waters at the sight.

“Fuck, I wish I could blow you.”

Andreas huffs out a laugh, stroking a hand along his cock slowly. Travis gets so caught up in watching the head disappearing into the tunnel of his fist that he nearly misses,

“Next time?”

He glances up to find Andreas watching him with a shy smile, like he isn’t certain that Travis will _want_ there to be a next time, which is _insane._

“Absolutely.” He doesn’t care how eager he sounds, not when it gets him such a brilliant smile in return.

In the meantime…

He licks his palm, gets it as wet as he can and then bats Andreas’ hand out of the way. It’s awkward, not as frustrating as when he’s jerking his own cock, but definitely not the easy glide he’s used to with his dominant hand. He starts slow, tries to find a rhythm. The muscles in his arm strain and he squeezes a little harder, gaze flickering up to Andreas face for clues as to how he’s doing.

His lower lip is caught between his teeth, brow furrowed. It’s not _exactly_ the blissed out look Travis was hoping for. He throws in a twist of his wrist, gratified when it startles a gasp out of Andreas, watching the way his lashes flutter, cheeks pink. God, Travis could watch him forever.

He keeps going but doesn’t earn anymore gasps and his arm starts to ache.

“I’m doing a shitty job, aren’t I?”

“No!” Andreas denies quickly. Travis pulls his hand away with a sigh. “Okay, maybe a bit. But, we can fix that.”

Andreas tangles their fingers together and brings their hands to his mouth. He holds Travis’ gaze as he sucks and licks and slicks up their palms, and Travis flushes, feeling heat gather in his gut again. Then he brings their joined hands to his cock.

“Like this,” Andreas murmurs, and Travis swallows hard at the first glide of their hands over Andreas’ cock.

Together they start slow, grip tighter than Travis likes it on himself. Andreas gets him to tease over the head, swirling in the precome gathering there, to squeeze tighter at the base like he’s close to coming and wants to hold off, wants it to last longer.

Travis tries to memorize it, wants to remember every second of the hot, heavy feel of Andreas in his hand, the way he gets slicker the closer he gets, the sweet little gasps he makes when Travis does something he likes.

He leans in and kisses him, lets Andreas pant wetly against his mouth as his hips make aborted little thrusts like he’s trying to hold himself still and _can’t_.

It shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

It feels like forever and no time at all before Andreas is urging their hands faster, body locking up as he spills over their fists. Travis keeps their hands going through it, kisses along his jaw, his cheek, his lax lips, until finally Andreas slumps against him. It makes Travis’ shoulder twinge, a little uncomfortable but not painful so he doesn’t mention it, content in the way Andreas curls against him like a big lazy cat.

Their hands are filthy so he wipes his on his shirt- come stains on the couch are a _bitch_ to get out. In the background Youtube is still up on his television playing Doctor Pimple Popper. He grimaces, but the remote is out of reach and he doesn’t want to disturb Andreas to turn it off.

“What the hell are you watching?”

Travis laughs.

“I was bored and trying to get rid of a boner.”

“Oh,” Andreas pauses, then lifts his head to catch Travis’ eye. His smirk is wicked. “I think our way works best.”

He lifts his hand, seems to realize it’s covered in come and grimaces, wiping it quickly on Travis’ shirt.

“Hey!”

“Come on,” Andreas pushes to his feet with a jaw cracking yawn “Up.”

“Why?” Travis whines but lets himself be pulled to his feet.

“Because I don’t want to sleep on your couch.” Andreas leans in for a slow, warm kiss. He tugs lightly at the hem of Travis’ shirt. “And I want to undress you _properly_.”

There’s something distinctly predatory in his gaze and Travis feels heat bloom through him.

“There’s lube in the bedroom?” He offers to see Andreas smirk grow.

He has no idea what he’s gotten himself into, but hell yeah he’s ready for it.

 

::

 

The chorus of _My Humps_ drags him out of a sound sleep. Without opening his eyes he swats at the side table until his hand finally connects with his cell. He swipes blindly at the screen, cracking an eye open to put it on speaker and drop it on his chest.

“What do you _want?”_ He whines, eyes closed and ready to drop back off to sleep at a moments notice.

_“Is that any way to talk to the guy that’s got a day of mind blowing activities planned?”_

“...What?” He’s having trouble wrapping his mind around what Justin is saying. He grabs his phone, squinting at the screen. “It’s seven in the _morning_ , you asshole.”

_“We have a busy day ahead of us.”_ Justin continues, undeterred.

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Kill who?” Andreas murmurs into the pillow and Travis winces, realizing he woke him.

“Shit, sorry babe.” His blond hair has fallen across his face and Travis aches to reach out and brush it back. Having one working arm _sucks_. “It’s just Justin. Go back to sleep.”

_“Is someone with you?”_ Justin demands gleefully. _“Travis, it’s seven in the morning. Did someone stay the night?”_

“Morning Justin.” Andreas mumbles. He cracks a yawn that sets off Travis, blinking his eyes open blearily.

There’s a pregnant pause over the phone.

_“That is_ not _Mango.”_

“Okay,” Travis agrees easily, figuring it will let him get back to sleep faster if he does. “It’s not Mango.”

Andreas huffs out a little laugh and closes the distance between them, careful of Travis’ shoulder as he curls against him. He tilts his face up, expression warm and Travis feels so overwhelmingly fond of him in that moment. He can’t help but to meet his lips for a slow, sweet kiss, morning breath be damned.

Clearly this is what Andreas wanted because he hums happily, hand gliding across Travis’ bare stomach and sending shivers down his spine. Andreas sucks on his lower lip, nipping at it and eliciting a sharp gasp from him. Waking up next to Andreas had already gotten his cock interested and the hand that’s slowly travingly south is quickly getting it the rest of the way.

_“Are you seriously making out with Johnsson while you’re on the phone with me?”_

“You’re the one that woke us up.” Travis’ voice comes out breathy as Andreas finally gets his hand wrapped around Travis’ cock.

_“Oh my god, I hate you both.”_

Travis laughs, fumbling for the phone.

“Love you too, buddy.” He hangs up on Justin’s indignant squawk and tosses his phone across the room. “You’re a _menace.”_

Andreas beams at him, pleased and leans in for a long, slow kiss.

Justin wisely doesn’t call back.

  



End file.
